Phasmatis
by Psychotic Happiness
Summary: Shadows swirling, writhing, breathing before his eyes. Whispering, screaming, beckoning. They want him...they need him. Something sinister invades the lair, tormenting one poor soul. It won't leave until it has what it came for. "He didn't know he could see spirits. Didn't even know they existed. So, how could he have seen any of this coming?"
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Here we go, my new story. Now, I have always been fascinated with the paranormal. I love ghost stories, horror movies, all that jazz. So, I decided to try my hand at my own ghost story. And, this just pops into my head, and there you have it. So, please review and tell me what you think, please. It would be mostly appreciated!**

**Oh, and of course Donnie is the main character. But, you probably already knew that. **

**Disclaimer: If I owned them, you would be watching this, not reading it. **

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"I'm really glad I have you to talk to. You're the only one who actually listens."

Splinter's ears twitched as he picked up the timid voice of his second youngest, drifting through the otherwise silent lair, from where he sat in lotus positon upon the poorly cushioned couch in the center of the living area, watching over the slumbering forms of his other three sons where they had crashed in a tangled heap of arms and legs after a long day of playing. The air felt thicker, a sense of grim apprehension twisted in his gut. He couldn't explain it, this weird feeling, but something was just off. A chill in the air. Perhaps a draft? With brows knit down in slight confusion, he glanced up at the source of where the noise was coming from. Donatello's door was shut, muffling his words, and just barely enough light peaked out from the bottom, indicating that the young turtle was very much awake, instead of in his bed like he should have been, like his father had told him to.

"No, it's just...I don't think they really notice me. They just ignore everything I say. Plus, I don't think they understand half of it."

Splinter sighed to himself as he slowly stood, quietly making his way over to his most intelligent son's room. This had been going on for awhile now. Almost every night the former human would wake up, eyes burning with sleep, to the same thing; the same soft voice, deep in conversation with somebody. At first, Splinter had just assumed that it was one of his brothers that Donatello was speaking to during these late night discussions. But, when he would open the door to chasty his sons about staying up too late, he would find Donatello staring up at him through those big mahogony eyes of his, mouth quirked up in a tiny smile, his son sitting in the middle of the floor...alone.

Now, it was no secret that this particular son was intellectually gifted way beyond his years, having fixed many of the appliances they used daily in their subterranean home at an early age, and he was definitely the most imaginative of his sons, aside from Michelangelo, whose ideas for games of pretend and excited retellings of dreams could make your head spin with the absurdity of it all. So, it did not concern the aged rat when his son began to talk to fictional beings only his eyes could see. He was only 5 years old, young children tended to have imaginary friends, especially one as introverted as Donatello. But, as it progressed, Splinter realized this wasn't normal behavior. The young turtle's discussions were so long and way more educated than the usual 5 year old ramblings. It was like Donatello was in an actual conversation with someone, like someone was actually responding. He was starting to worry.

Splinter cocked his head to the side slightly, ears pointed in the direction of his son's room as he paused in front of the door, his paw hovering over the doorknob. His son's continued "conversation" became clearer and he could hear Donatello let out a sad sigh.

"I wish I could talk to you all the time."

Splinter gently wrapped his knuckles on the large metal door. "My son? May I come in?" He called out to Donatello, making sure to keep his voice low.

"Sure, Sensei." His son answered before quietly whispering to the empty air, "Hold on one second."

The rat pushed his way into the dimly lit room to find his son sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, the same scene as every other time he would catch the turtle doing this. Donatello's eyes shone, the red of his irises overtaking the brown, practically glowing as they always seemed to do when framed by darkness. His mouth upturned into an innocent smile as he peered up at his father.

"Hi, Sensei."

"Hello, my son." Splinter replied distractedly, his mind occupied as he scanned the familiar room, his burnt sienna eyes roaming over shelves of books and the scraps of paper that cluttered the walls and floor, scribbled with ideas and equations and schematics. He searched every corner, for what, he didn't know. He just looked for something, someone, but there was nothing. He wasn't surprised.

He let out a relieved breath, finally turning around to look at the olive green face of his smiling son, curious eyes watching him intently. Allowing a small smile of his own as the nervousness that fluttered in his chest died down momentarily, he sat down in front of his son, mimicking the young mutant's position as he faced him. His smile quickly fell, he wasn't quite sure how to begin, wracking his brain for the proper way to ask the question that had been plaguing his mind for months. That odd feeling was back, like, aside from Donatello, he was not alone in this room, the faint scent of another being tickled his nose, fading in and out, making him question if it was actually there or not. But, how could that be? There was nobody else.

He sighed, calming his mind, helping him think. Focus on the issue at hand. "My son, could you please tell me who you've been talking to at night?"

Splinter watched as his son's face grew red with embarrassment. "You knew?" Donatello asked sheepishly.

The rat nodded. "Yes, I have known for awhile." The young mutant rubbed his arm shyly, casting his gaze down, mentally preparing himself for the verbal lashing that was surely to come. Splinter smiled slightly, his voice full of warmth, not anger. "Do not worry, my son. You are not in trouble, and there is nothing to be embarrassed about." He gently placed his clawed hand on Donatello's green shoulder. "I simply wish to know who you are talking to every night."

Donatello looked up at him, nodding obediantly with a relieved smile on his face. He suddenly trained his eyes on the back corner of the room, where the shadows seemed almost darker, as if trying to hide something from view. "Her." He said simply, pointing to the corner.

Splinter squinted at the empty spot his son pointed, confused by his response. "Who?" An uneasy feeling started to come over him.

Donnie stood from his seated position, facing his Sensei as he continued to point at the same spot. "Her." He turned his body to the corner, a smile on his face as he waved for whoever, or whatever, it was to come over to them. "Come say hi, Shen-Shen."

Splinter froze. A painful sadness, that he had been trying to overcome, clenched his heart. His head spun. Shen-Shen? No, it couldn't be...

"W-what did you say?" He asked in shock, eyes wide, filled with fear and denial. He tried to wrap his mind around it, tried to quell the emotions running rampant inside him, like a storm disturbing the calm sea. He stood, towering over his son, his voice taking a strange tone to it, almost angry. "What did you call her?"

Donatello grew quiet, puzzled by his father's reaction. "Shen-Shen." He mumbled quietly. He didn't like that look in his Sensei's eyes.

Splinter's head snapped towards his son. Crouching down next to him, he grabbed the tot by the shoulders, making Donatello wince as he squeezed with more force than he meant to. "Where did you hear that name? Who told you?" He practically shouted in the turtle's face, his voice stern, hard. He had never told any of his sons of his late wife and daughter, never uttered a word of the tragedy that had befallen his first family. How could this son possibly know his deceased wife's name? His mind was clouded with fear, yet, he did not fully understand why. "Who?!"

The purple banded turtle's eyes sprung with tears, features becoming fearful. "S-she did." He whispered, voice trembling.

Splinter stared at Donatello with shock on his face. Tears glistened in his eyes, images of fire, of death and destruction replaying in his mind. Screaming, pain, loss. "I-I'm sorry." He heard his son's frightened voice apologize.

The rat master suddenly straightened up, facing the corner as he stood protectively in front of his quivering son. He had never seen a spirit before, but there was no doubt in his mind that they existed. Lost souls that drifted between worlds, bordering on different states existence. Wisps of air, invisible to their eyes, floating all around them, in the back of their minds, filling their dreams with death, with nightmares. They hid under childrens' beds, in their closets, scaring young ones into their parents' rooms, finding safety under their covers. Some were good, most were evil. Demons. Monsters. Things nobody should mess with. It was unnatural...dangerous to be around them. They tried to get inside you, tried to suck out your soul. Yes, he believed in ghosts, he knew them to be real. But, his wife was not one of them. Couldn't be. She no longer suffered the hardships of this world, she was at peace. This thing...this imposter was not the woman he loved. It was trying to get to his son, hurt him. He could smell it in the air, feel it in his gut.

His eyes narrowed at the shadows of the corner. "Whoever or whatever you are, you stay away from my son!" Splinter shouted, his voice rising in anger. He was scared. Scared for his son.

"Sensei?" Donatello asked quietly, looking up to the hurt face of Tang Shen. He didn't understand. Why was his father yelling at his friend if he had a picture of her?

Splinter ignored him. "Get out of my home! Stay away from my son!" He continued to shout. He was in denial, still pained with the fresh memory of loss. It couldn't be her. This was not his beloved Tang Shen.

"Sensei, stop!" Donnie pleaded, reaching out to the tall rat. He watched as Tang Shen started to disappear, fading into the darkness, her sad face growing dimmer and dimmer. He reached his three fingered hand out to her, his eyes wide with fright, despair seizing him. "No! Shen-Shen, wait!"

Splinter scooped his son into his arms, slowly backing towards the door as his son struggled against his grip, trying with all his might to get free, to get to his friend. Tears poured down his face, staring at the seemingly empty corner. "No! Please don't go! Please!" He sobbed, his voice anguished as he watched her leave, knowing she wasn't coming back.

Tang Shen waved to him sadly, tears glistening in her loving eyes, making tracks down her cheeks. This was goodbye. Her form disappeared completely, she was gone. The young turtle's wails echoed through the underground home.

Donatello never saw Shen-Shen again. In a short time, he completely forgot about his "imaginary" friend. Splinter made sure of that. He used a special technique he learned from his days in Japan. An unusual form of meditation mixed with hypnosis, making someone forget, erasing certain memories. And, he used it on the same son after his next friend. And, the time after that. And, the time after that. All through the years until, eventually, they stopped as he got older. Donatello never remembered any of them. He didn't know he could see spirits. Didn't even know they existed. So, how could he have seen any of this coming?

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**Okay, well there we go. Tell me what you think, pretty please. Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, this entire month has been extremely busy for me. Seriously, just one thing after another. That's why it took a while to update, but then I finally got done writing this chapter and was going to post it last Friday, but then the site messed up and wouldn't let me. So, I had to wait longer! Ugh. But, it's here now. So, enjoy! And, please review! My motivation requires sustenance!**

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The tails of his bandana whipped at the air near his head, carried by the midnight breeze from where he stood atop the dark rooftop of a rundown apartment complex. The windows were boarded up, the wood rotten and soft from the years of rain and snow, exposed to the outside. The bricks were battered and cracked, covered with faded spray paintings and moss. Untamed vines of the freely growing vegetation snaked its way up the side of the building, twisting and curling, green tentacles gripping onto the stone all the way to the top where he stood, stopping just before his feet, like a hungry monster slowly swallowing the whole structure. This was a bad part of town, all the buildings looked the same across the forgotten neighborhood. Unkept, unloved, decayed, abandoned, the same image mirrored over and over again among the rows of stone and metal. There were countless reports of crimes in this part of town. Robberies, vandalism...murder. But, tonight there was no one. Not a soul in sight.

The steady rhythm of his beating heart echoed in his ears as he stared at the depressing scene before him. He could hear his brothers bickering behind him, their voices sounding as if from a great distance, muffled as he focused of the pounding of his heart, the strange feeling that creeped up his chest. A feeling he was all too familiar with, one that he had experienced all throughout his childhood. He couldn't explain it. It was frightening, yet exciting. He could feel himself start to sweat, though his skin was cold to the touch. His pulse was faster, stronger, like the beat of a drum, it throbbed in his head, his stomach, everywhere. His hands shook with nervous energy, his legs tingled with the need to run as this anxiousness swelled in his lungs, threatening to burst out. As if something were about to happen, just waiting for him around the corner. Something great, something scary, just something.

Laughter sounded from down the street, echoing loudly in the silence of the abandoned neighborhood as two shadows stretched down the road. Two humans, a boy and a girl, came into view and the nervous turtle released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. They were both dressed up, most likely walking home after some special occasion. The couple talked to each other excitedly, laughing at what the other said, looking perfectly content with one another. He stared at the two with large eyes, transfixed by their movements and the pure happiness that played on their faces, shining in their eyes, reverberating in their voices. A tiny smile tugged at his lips as he watched them stroll down the sidewalk towards a nearby alley. He didn't know why, but watching these two ordinary characters made the strange feeling inside him grow, pulsating in his chest, blending with their infectious joy that bubbled in his stomach. He didn't want to take his eyes off them.

"Donnie, come on. We're leaving."

Donatello shook himself of his trance like state at the sound of his eldest brother's voice. He turned to see his three brothers jumping to the adjacent rooftop, flipping over vents and exposed piping. The anxiousness had subsided somewhat. He could still feel it there, an extra kick of adrenaline, but it was much more tolerable now, making his heart slow down and his breathing return to normal. He glanced at the humans below one last time, their shadowy forms getting ready to turn down the darkened alley, before rushing off to catch up with the others.

The turtle didn't see as the couple made their way into the alley, their bloody backs retreating into the shadows. Their laughter echoed down the street as red dripped from their broken skulls.

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The feeling of the abandoned warehouse that stood before them was...ominous, at best. The building loomed overhead, casting their bodies in its inky black shadow. Why anybody would want to spend even a moment in there, they had no clue. The jagged edges of shattered windows made it look almost as if it were glaring down at them. The door was wide open with fragments of splintered wood jutting out like teeth, like a hungry beast inviting them into its awaiting mouth, the myriad of creaks and moans from inside sounding similar to that of an empty stomach. The thought made them shiver.

The night had started out normally, just another routine patrol around the city, that is until an overheard conversation from two dimwitted purple dragons led them to this desolate structure. Apparently, the Kraang was keeping some heavy artillery there, weapons of mass destruction and advanced technology that could potentially wipe out the entire human race. Just the usual.

But, why here?

The question plagued Donatello's mind. Because it's on the outskirts of town? Because this is the last place they would ever look? That wasn't usually the Kraang's style. The purple banded turtle felt uneasy about the whole thing. He didn't like the sense of dread growing in the pit of his stomach, the feeling of a thousand eyes on him, how the shadows darted away from his gaze. The nervous energy was back, his hands trembled with it. He didn't know why, but this didn't feel like any other mission. He just couldn't shake this sense of impending doom.

"Dudes, this is creepy." Michelangelo piped up, cowering in the gaze of the dark building as he stared up at it. "Why couldn't we have staked out a pizza joint or something?"

"Don't be such a scaredy-cat, Mikey. It's just a building." Raphael rolled his eyes, the tough guy act faltering when he quickly looked away from the starring windows. He would never admit it out loud, but even he was getting a little freaked out by this place. The way the moonlight hit the structure, casting an eerie glow about it, just added to the ghostly feeling. Just throw in a guy with an axe and you had the perfect horror movie.

"It won't take long." Leo said, taking a step closer. "We'll just confirm what we know, and get out. We can come back when we have a better idea of what the Kraang are planning. Come on." Leo unsheathed he katana as he guided he brothers to the entrance.

Donatello had only been half-listening to their conversation, his mind wandering elsewhere. The feeling grew ever stronger, settling uncomfortably in his chest. Thoughts swirled around in his brain as he focused on the darkness of the warehouse. The inky blackness covering the walls and floors, almost as if concealing something, trying to hide what awaits them. He swore he could see movement behind the wall of shadows, faint wisps of something that disappeared in an instant. It made the horrible feelings inside him grow, the uncontrollable sense of foreboding leaving him feeling queasy.

"You coming, Brainiac?" Raph whispered loudly, the sound of one of his brother's voices shaking the genius of his silent trance for the second time that night.

Gulping down his unexplainable fear, Donnie forced his legs to move over to his awaiting brothers. Was it his imagination? Was his mind playing tricks on him? He didn't thinks so. And, these feelings weren't going away. He didn't know why, but he just knew.

Something bad was going to happen.

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**I am really enjoying writing this! I love ghost stories!**

**So, tell me what you think. Any suggestions for future events? Something particularly scary you'd like to see happen? Let me know!**


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